


Runnin' With the Devil

by ChickenandBrocolli



Series: 52 Ways to Murder Anyone [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sam, Decapitation, Demon Blood Addiction, Demon Dean, Hallucinations, M/M, Murder, Mutilation, Public Blow Jobs, Rimming, Road Trips, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Top Dean, Torture, murder spree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 13:23:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10387587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChickenandBrocolli/pseuds/ChickenandBrocolli
Summary: Sam and Dean hit the road to murder their way across the West.  Their homicidal road trip brings them closer than ever and more dependent on one another. Sam finds the full extent of the power Dean's blood brings as well as how far he will go for his big brother. Each state he's being followed by hallucinated creatures urging him to kill. Can he satisfy these beasts' bloodthirsty needs? Can he make Dean need him just as much as he needs Dean?





	

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr inspo](http://lolitalecki.tumblr.com/tagged/52wtma)   
>  [playlist](https://play.spotify.com/user/retnuh_/playlist/1qhEZ3uCE2AnPEPzwp4lsD)

Sam’s thrumming with excitement. They've only been on the road for five minutes but he has the energy of a five year old who ate his way through a candy store. Dean on the other hand is not impressed with his little brother’s behavior. Sure he gets that Sam hasn't left the bunker in months but how exciting can the outside of it and the road leading to the main road really be?

He can’t take it anymore. Sam keeps fidgeting in his seat and open and closing the window.

“Jesus fucking Christ Sam! Can you stop shaking like a goddamn puppy?” Dean doesn't mean to yell but he knows he's not going to last a long car ride with Sam acting this way.

He glances at Sam, concern filling his features. His hand runs through his hair in an attempt to calm himself from the agitation Sam has caused.

Sam, who’s not paying attention to him at all, has got his window rolled down and his pale hand is dancing in the wind whipping past the Impala, not a care in the world. All the warm color in Sam’s skin slowly seeped away when he was locked in the bunker, his skin almost translucent when the sun is hitting it. Dean hopes this trip, and future ones, are going to bring some color back to his little brother.

Corn field after corn field passes them by as they make their way out of the state they call home. The older Winchester doesn't actually have a plan on where they're going but he figures heading west isn't a bad idea. The desert revives nostalgic longing for younger versions of himself and Sam spending hot days and cool nights glued to each other’s side. Dad gone for days at a time and nothing to entertain themselves with besides each other. He wishes he would have went through with everything he wanted to back then, wishes he didn't keep Sam at arm's length the way he did. If he would've had Sam the way he did now they might not have ended up the way they are.

Four hours out on the road, Sam and Dean are finally out of Kansas. The ’Welcome to Colorado’ sign greets them, ELO playing softly through the speakers on a crackling classic rock station, a comfortable silence settling over them. Dean’s still lost in thought, driving on autopilot through roads he's been down countless times before. Sam has the same elated grin glued to his face. They've been driving through never ending farmland for the past couple of hours and he hasn't gotten bored with their dull surroundings. Even with his soul a tattered mess, Dean can't help but feel happy too.

The Impala rumbles along the highway from early afternoon until dusk. Utah greeted them three hours after they stopped for lunch. A lit up sign in the distance promises gas and food, both are things they’re running low on. Dean pulls into the only truck stop for the next 60 miles just as the sun is setting. The brothers will be in Nevada before the next stop.

Sam always loved truck stops around this time of day. The setting sun casts an orange glow over the barren parking lot and gas station. The surrounding area is heavily wooded and casting dark shadows onto the hot pavement. Sam eyes the treeline carefully, the sweat that’s prickling the back of his neck makes him feel like 1000 sets of eyes are watching him from the brush. It seems like they've entered another dimension. Maybe they'll find someone to play with here, he think sadistically to himself. He never used to have thoughts like this outside of his and Dean’s playing, but ever since Dean lets him drink more freely, the masochistic intrusions come in tidal waves.

Dean waits outside leaning up against the peeling siding of the mini mart. He hands Sam a twenty, sending him away. The fluorescent lights flicker on the outside of the building, reflecting off Sam’s eyes are causing them to turn a golden green. Sam wanders over to the building, heading inside to get some snacks for himself. The fridges are broken in the back but he grabs two room temperature water bottles for his brother and himself. Sam’s hands are shaking in excitement and nervousness as he pays for the chips and drinks he bought with the money Dean had given him prior to entering. He shouts an enthusiastic ‘thank you’ as he exits the store in search for Dean. He thinks that he might've spoken a little too loudly, since the silence he endured in the dungeon fucked with his hearing perception.

Dean can't help but laugh as he watches Sam interact with the first people he's seen besides himself in over three months. He's fucking adorable but you'd never get Dean Winchester to admit it out loud. Maybe when he's drunk he might.

He’s waiting for Sam outside, cigarette hanging from his lips, a habit he picked up from the crowds he'd been hanging around.

Sam’s eyes are fixated on Dean’s lips, as he watches his brother blows smoke into the cooling night air. The bag with their food is occupying his right hand, so Sam uses the other to pull his jacket tighter around his body. The sky is purple now, sun nowhere in sight.

“Need anything else, babe?” Dean asks.

Sam nods, blush spreading across his cheeks. He's just so fucking thirsty. Dean already knows that though. He always knows exactly what his beautiful baby brother needs, even before Sam knows he needs it.

Sauntering around the building with Sam in tow like the good little puppy he is, Dean leans against the hard red graffitied brick and waits. Sam knows he's been a good boy so he's not afraid to ask for it.

“Please, Dean. Need your blood.” The words are soaking with desperation and want.

Pulling a pocket knife from his pants, Dean pushes his sleeve up and cuts his forearm for Sam.

Holding his arm out, with a sweet smile he grants permission, “Go on Sammy.”

The bag drops from Sam’s hand to the cold concrete. Dean’s glad he didn't ask for anything in glass. He hunches over, body curved sharply, to suck on Dean’s relaxed arm. Sam’s knees feel weak. The only sounds in darkening night is Sam’s slurping and the buzzing of the light on the side of the building. Sam thinks about the eyes that followed him from the woods, he arches his back just a little more, to give his hallucinated animalistic audience a show.

His face drags through the open wound, spreading blood across his cheek. Knees giving out, Sam drops to the concrete to suck Dean dry. His tongue laps into the cut pulling more blood to satisfy himself. He wants to bite into Dean’s skin,open up more wounds until he can drink Dean entirely, suck him to a dry husk.

He knows the satisfying taste of Dean is soon going to end when the cut starts to heal. A low whine escapes Sam’s lips while he tries to get the last drops with his skilled tongue. He places a kiss where it once was and plops down on his ass. His hands are digging into the broken glass littering the curbside but he could give a shit less. He thinks he can hear growling and applauding from the treeline a hundred yards away. Good show, he thinks to himself. The beasts are satisfied for now, but Sam knows they’ll need more soon.

A bloody smile is sent Dean’s way. Dean can't help himself as he licks at his thumb and tries to wipe some of the blood away on Sam’s face. That action is the only praise Sam really needs. Dean finishes his cigarette and drops it onto the concrete next to Sam. He stubs it out with the toe of his boot and offers a hand to his little brother.

“C’mon, buddy.” Dean says, picking a blissed out Sam off of the concrete.

His hands are a little cut up and bloody where they’re cradled in Dean’s.

“You suck blood like you suck dick.” Dean grins.

“Enthusiastically”. He laughs.

Sam smiles back and places a sloppy, bloody kiss to Dean’s cheek.  
The bag Sam abandoned on the sidewalk is snatched up by Dean. He throws his arm over Sam’s shoulders and leads him back to the car.

 

After about 10 minutes back out on the road Sam is finally back to himself, the euphoria caused by the blood fades away.  
He’s examining his cut up hands a little too closely, causing Dean to worry.

“You don't think you'll need stitches, do you?” Dean finally asks.

“No look.”

Sam shows Dean his palms, there's dried blood covering them but not a single cut. Dean’s at a loss of words. That's not fucking possible.

“Sammy you were sitting with your hands in broken glass.”

He cuts the wheel, pulling into the grass on the side of the road.

“Give me your hands.” Dean demands.

Sam hesitates then gives in, slumping in his seat. Dean turns to face him, cupping his brother’s hands in his own. He runs his pointer over Sam’s blood crusted palm. There’s not a single cut, just a small lump where the skin healed over some gravel.

“Lick them.” Dean demands.

“De I’m really not-”

“I said fucking lick them.” He growls, eyes piercing Sam like a knife through his latest victim’s gut.

Sam snatches his hands from Dean. Cars rush past them on the highway. Four in total each spread apart by 30 seconds Sam notes to himself, as he gets the courage to lick the crusted blood from his palm.

He sticks his tongue out. Dean holds in a breath of anticipation, an audible gasp resounding in the darkness of the car . The second contact is made, Sam knows it's just his ordinary blood, not his brother’s decadent one, his face contorts the second he tastes it. They both know what this means.

“It’s my blood.” Sam feels the need to announce, Filling the silence that’s gaping between them.

Dean already knows that it was Sam’s blood, he didn't need Sam to tell him. He has a separate little place filed away in his brain for when he desperately needs to jerk off, and that’s the faces and noises his baby brother makes while drinking from him. That grimace Sam produced was definitely not one of them.

The fear that Dean’s going to cut off his supply is growing deep within Sam each deafening second it takes his big brother to respond. Cars pass by, headlights illuminating the interior of the car. He can hear his heartbeat loud in his ears as he stares down at his hand trying to get himself to calm down.

Dean tries to keep his face as neutral as possible. Truth is Dean’s not sure what to do. He can risk Sam getting stronger than him, or he can cut him off and let Sam get weak. His teeth catch on his plush bottom lip as he ponders the thought. He comes to a conclusion quickly, only after remembering what happened last time Sam wasn't receiving any blood.

“I'm not going to cut you off, Sammy.” That's all Dean says as he puts the car in drive and pulls out onto the highway. Sam’s shoulders sink in relief. He curls himself up into Dean’s side and watches as bright headlights reflect off of the ‘Welcome to Nevada’ sign. Maybe they'll go to Vegas again.

Sam falls asleep and dreams of getting hitched to his brother by a fat Elvis.

 

\--

 

They've been in Nevada for five days and Dean hasn't so much as mentioned the plausible death of anyone they've come into contact with.  
A few days ago,they pulled off the highway sometime in the middle of the night after passing the state border. Dean drove his baby through the desert until they found the crackling neon glow of a motel they would call home for the next week or so.

Sam’s finally gaining color back in his skin from lounging outside next to the green swimming pool. He spends the days with a thin layer of sweat and the night with a chill that's only gone when he's pressed against Dean’s side.  
He's been well fed and well fucked these past couple of days and he couldn't be happier. Dean even made time for them to be actual tourists for once. He bought a disposable camera and took Sam to some of the local tourist attractions. Sam thinks this is the perfect honeymoon to the dream wedding he imagined between him and Dean.

 

Sam wakes up in just his underwear in between itchy motel sheets, the bed is a little sunken in from the broken frame. He’s unsure of the time, but he knows it's somewhere between really early in the morning and really late at night. The shower’s running in the bathroom. Sam can see a glimpse of Dean’s silhouette through the cracked door. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he gets himself out of bed. The boxers he’s wearing drop to the ground as he pushes them off his hips and makes his way to the bathroom. Sam climbs in the shower behind Dean, who grunts in acknowledgement and moves up so Sam can get under the spray. Sam’s head drops to Dean’s shoulder. He lightly bites into the pink tinged skin asking for permission for something more.

“You can if you want.” Dean’s voice is just above a whisper, he runs a soapy washcloth over his torso.

Sam mouths along Dean’s shoulder towards his neck. He bites down hard, canines bringing blood to the surface of Dean's skin, little bubbles of red where Sam’s teeth broke open warm flesh. The washcloth drops to the shower floor when Dean moves to brace his hands on the either side of the shower head. His little brother laps up the last drops on his neck and presses a kiss to the bite mark. Sam’s face scrunches, he stares at the bite, nothing's happening.

“You aren't healing.” The concern in Sam’s voice is flooding the space around them.

“Yeah babe, you've taken a lot outta me. It will eventually.”

Sam just nods and wraps his arms around Dean’s middle as a silent thank you. Dean turns in Sam’s embrace and uses his toes to pick the washcloth from the floor.

“What, you aren't gonna bend over and get it?” Sam asks slyly still engulfed in all things Dean.

“I’m not the one who’s gonna be bending over.”

He laughs and begins to soap up Sam. The soap runs down his chest and legs. Sam closes his eyes and steadies himself with two hands on his brother's shoulders, holding Dean close.  
After the front of Sam is clean, Dean turns him around and presses him to the back wall of the cramped shower. Dean begins to work his hands into the knotted muscles in Sam’s shoulder. Sam’s pleasured groans echo against the tiles. Dean works his way down Sam’s back, sliding his hands over his brother's plush ass when he finally gets there.

“How you doing from last night?” He asks, pulling Sam’s cheeks apart to get a view of his dusty pink hole.

It's still swollen, Sam must still be able to feel it.

Dean drops to his knees on the shower floor. Holding Sam open, he licks in deep.

Sam grips the first thing he see to stop himself from falling, the shower curtain. It goes tumbling to the floor, letting cool air into the shower with them. Dean doesn't let up, doesn't even flinch at the broken rod landing inches away from him, he just continues to eat Sam’s ass like it's his last meal.

The water runs cold and Sam’s coming hard.

 

They head out for breakfast after they get dressed.

The bell of the diner dings overhead when they enter. The place is mostly empty, but it's barely 7am on a Saturday so they should be filling up soon. Dean picks a booth in the back, same booth they've sat in all week. The yellow pleather creaking as Sam slides in across from him, immediately tangling his feet with Dean’s. The waitress comes over and sets two cups of coffee in front of them. She pulls one of the three pencils out of her bun and a notepad from her apron.

“Same as yesterday?” She asks, smiling sweetly at the pair.

“Same as yesterday.” Dean nods and hands her the unopened plastic covered menus that were on the table.

“So I'm thinking we hit the road soon, snag someone on the way out of town.”

Sam frowns, eyes on his lap, picking at the peeling edge of the table. He doesn't want to leave their flower motel paradise just yet.

“Yeah I guess.”

Dean reaches across the table to hold Sam’s hand in his own.

“Why don't we say goodbye to every horizontal and possibly vertical surface first?”  
He brushes his thumb over the top of Sam’s knuckles. Sam looks up and reaches Dean’s eyes. Dean’s got a wicked grin on his face and Sam knows that Dean is already imagining all the things they're gonna get up to. He can help the blush spreading on his face. Sam's freehand brushes a stray hair back behind his ear.

The waitress returns and clears her throat causing the two of them to reluctantly break apart. She places two identical plates of food across from each.

“Can I get you two anything else?”

“No I think we're good.” Sam responds, eyes following his brother's throat as he swallows his first bite of food. Leave it to Dean to start eating before it's even set in front of him.

Dean rushes Sam through his meal, eager to get him back in the motel and on his back.

The bed frame was broken days ago and the shower suffered from their antics this morning, so Dean works on cracking the dresser next.

Sam and Dean are out on the road sooner than they planned. Apparently not everyone enjoys Sam's screams as much as Dean and they woke up some of the other sleeping guests. The owner was banging on their door at 9:30 telling them to shut up or get the hell out. There was no one around when they finally got all their shit in the car so Dean blew Sam right up against the door out of spite.

They'll pick someone up off of I-15 on their way into Utah.

 

\--

It's in Utah when Sam decides he wants to skin one. A pretty blonde with thick hips and tits to match. He’s just taken Dean’s fist and drank probably half the blood in Dean’s body. He feels loopy but powerful and maybe it's all the blood but he really wants to feel like what she's like on the inside. He wants to see what it's like to be her, or at least that's what the raspy voice in his head keeps telling him.  
He scalps her first, removing her wavy bleached hair and the skin with it. He turns to Dean, scalp in hand, and places it on top of his own head.  
“Hey Dean.” He giggles, blush spreading over his naked body. ( Sammy never guts anyone clothed.)  
He drops his voice an octave when he delivers the next line, biting back the smile that's threatening to spread.  
“Would you fuck me?”  
He does a weird little dance backwards, cock tucked between his thighs in imitation of Buffalo Bill, almost tripping over his own feet. Not even completing the routine he wanted, Sam stops in his tracks and keels over with laughter, bloodied scalp falling from its perch on his head.  
Dean should find a naked grown man covered in blood and someone else’s skin as endearing as he does.

\--  
On the road to Arizona, Dean plays nothing but the Eagles “Take it Easy”. The eleventh time the tape plays, accompanied by Dean’s singing, Sam ejects it and throws it out the window. They weren't even anywhere near Winslow.

The radio clicks onto a news station. The reporter talks about a serial killer who is running rampant in the West of the nation. The latest victim was Rebecca Simmons who was found missing most of her skin 20 miles outside her hometown. Dean turns the dial for a new station.

Sam doesn't remember the name of the town that they're in. Dean tells him about a local hookup spot for the town’s teenagers. They head there around 10 o'clock that night armed with an ax and a machete. Only two cars are in the area when Sam and Dean pull in. Dean takes the station wagon and Sam takes the pick up truck. As Sam’s getting out of the car he looks to the black horizon. He sees the creatures again, their bloodthirsty eyes begging for a show. He doesn't want them to take him away from Dean. He know that they want him the most. They want to do bad things to him that Dean could never get him back from.

He gives them a show, smashes the driver side window of the truck and drags the young teen out of it. A glass shard digs into his soft stomach. His girlfriend is streaking for Sam to stop. Sam barks out a laugh and chops one of the kids legs off with the ax, pulling the strength to do so from the blood he recently consumed from his big brother.

“C’mon out here sweetheart and maybe you can save him.”

The boy’s girlfriend falls from the truck, rushing around the where Sam is. Sam laughs again and beheads her boyfriend. She screams again and tries to run away, out into the desert where nothing but death and evil lie. Sam takes off after her. She's too disoriented and shaken up to out run him. The headlights of the pickup shine a spotlight on Sam as he gets ready for his performance. Chasing after her, he knocks her to the ground in time with his routine and beheads her. Her eyes are still blinking, full of big tears, after her head is detached. He picks her head up by her ponytail to head back to Dean. Before he goes he bows for his creatures and hold her head high above his like he just won a championship.

Dean is standing over two headless, lifeless, bodies when Sam returns to him. He beckons Sam over proud smile on his face. He pulls Sam to him by the back of his head and presses a hard kiss to his lips.

No one was around to hear the breaking glass and screams. The Winchester’s drive off bloodlust, satisfied but lust for each other drowning them.

Sam’s satanic creatures howl and laugh with delight at the gifts he's given them.

 

The next morning, Dean lets Sam be a tourist at the Four Corners. They drop the heads close enough to the monument to be found within a week.

\--

Colorado is a special one.

Sam and Dean grabbed some random chick that had been flirting with them the night before, inviting her back for a threesome and drinks. She’s real pretty, tight little body and long brown hair running down her back, it's gonna be so nice to drag her around by. She’s young too, Sam’s not even sure she's eighteen yet but he brought her back because it's what Dean wanted. The voices in his head constantly remind him that he needs to keep Dean happy in order to get everything he needs. Dean watched Sam fuck her. He jammed a needle into her neck and slowly she blacked out under him. They kept her in the trunk most of the next day. She started banging around back there late in the afternoon, so Dean tied her up gave her another dose of what he injected into her yesterday.

Sam and Dean took a pretty little thing from a truck stop offering Dean a good time for a price. She told him her name was Samantha but that wasn't gonna do. Dean called her Ruby and dragged her around back where the car was already running. He felt the name was proper, he still had some pent up anger he needed to get out at the demon Sam willingly drank from besides him.

It was early in the morning so no one was around to hear her scream as Sam beat her pretty pout into a bloody pulp. She got thrown next to the drugged chick in the trunk.

They tag teamed in a bar fight that night. Some middle aged biker didn't wanna see “two fags” grinding up on each other in the dark corner of the bar. He was easy to take down. He clearly had a couple of beers and had no chance against Sam _and_ Dean.  
Two in the trunk and one in the backseat as Dean pulls up to an old cabin they used to use to interrogate demons. It's full of chains and different devices for torture. They are going to have one hell of a weekend.

 

Three victims is too much for them to handle. This is what Sam’s now realizing as he fights off the burly man Dean insisted they take.

_Dean._

Sam hasn't heard a single thing in hours from him. He went after a runner who managed to escape while they were busy with other activities. That was four hours ago.  
Sam gets the guy flipped over and pins him. He puts him in an arm lock and drags him back over to the chains on the wall. He hears the door burst open and jumps from his spot crouched on the ground. Dean has a passed out girl slung over his shoulder. He drops her the second Sam comes running for him, a dull ‘thud’ echoing in the room, where she's slumped like a rag doll. Dean presses his lips to Sam’s.

“I was so fucking worried.” Sam murmurs.

“Don't make this a chick moment, Sam.”

“Yeah okay.” Sam steps away from Dean.

He drags the passed out girl by her foot over next to the guy

Their prisoner jumps up and handcuffs Sam to an exposed pipe. Dammit, he forgot to chain him back up when Dean came in.

“Dean!” Sam yells as the biker charges at his brother.

He gets Dean off balance and they're fighting it out on the floor. Sam knows Dean is weak. He shouldn't have drank so much. He tries to get his hand in his pocket but the key isn't there. He must have gotten it off of him when he first attacked.

“Dean Winchester.” The biker spits, pinning Dean to the floor. Dean lost his gun in the fight, it's lying just inches away from his fingers, mocking him.

“I've been waiting for this moment. I knew exactly who you were at the bar, well what you are.”

Sam watches helplessly as Dean tries to get out for, underneath him. Sam really drained him when he last drank, he can still feel Dean’s blood in his veins. If only Dean could reach his gun.

When the biker pulls a knife from the back of his pants, Sam’s worst fears come true. He has a demon killing knife. Sam’s so focused on the gun just inches from Dean that he doesn't even realize the blood dripping from his nose. The gun starts to move closer to Dean. Sam just keeps picturing in his mind, the way Dean’s strong hands hold the grip. He finally does it. The handgun is in Dean’s hand, his brain is pounding and he passes out just as three shots ring throughout the room.

He woke up in the impala, head in Dean’s lap. He tries to sit up but the world starts to spin.

“Whoa easy tiger.” Dean eases him back down, hand rubbing soft circles on his side. Sam settles back into Dean’s lap and closes his eyes.

“What happened to them?” He asks trying to focus on Dean’s breathing, each puff of his stomach pushing lightly against the back of his head.

“Shot ‘em all. Thanks to you we’re alive.” The smile is clear in his voice, Dean couldn't be prouder of his baby boy.

“And the bodies?” He asks, a slight hopefulness in his tone. Maybe Dean didn't dump them just yet.

“Burned with the cabin.”

Sam nods, accidentally nuzzling Dean’s crotch. Damn he slept through the fun. God he wishes he could have played a little.

Willie Nelson’s voice crackles through the only station that's somewhat coming in. Just before Sam drifts off he hears Dean say,

“I think Wyoming is nice this time of year.”

They head north.

\--

Colorado went bad, but Wyoming is where things start taking a turn for the worse. Dean promises Sam they will take a break. It’s hard for Sam to understand the urges Dean gets to kill, but he's ready to take on whatever Dean’s got as long as it means they can stay together. The only thirst Sam worries about pleasing are those of the blood thirsty beasts that have followed them through the west.

They haven't been home in two months and with the constant stream of murders, the police are close on their trails, or at least that's what Sam’s saying. He happens to catch the news that morning when the channels were finally coming in on their dinky motel TV.

**_Winchester Brothers Alive??_ **

The reporter continued to talk about their past crimes. It was coming in grainy but Sam’s sure of what he saw and heard. So that leads them to where they are now, laying low for the night much to Dean’s dismay.

 

They're hanging out at some hole in the wall bar, Dean playing pool and Sam is sitting idly at the bar on his phone. Some guy had come and sat next to him so Sam had been making some small talk.

“So what brings you here tonight, gorgeous?” The guy’s hand falls to Sam’s thigh, which immediately tenses up under his touch.

“Relax baby.”

The man rubs his hand up Sam’s thigh. Sam glance quickly over at Dean, who's too caught up in his game to even notice what's going on.

This was the last thing Dean expected when he let Sam come out of the bunker. He thought his brother was going to follow him around like the well trained puppy he is. He definitely did not expect him to be half way into some older guy’s lap five minutes after Dean left to go hustle pool.

Dean begins to line up a shot when out of the corner of his eye he sees some guy chatting up his Sam. Sam, who had the audacity to play back into the asshole’s flirting, is completely oblivious to the fact Dean caught up on what he was doing to pass the time. The cue clattered as Dean threw it back on the rack to prevent himself from snapping it.

“I’ll be back in a second.” Dean said to the other guys he was playing with. Racing to the other side of the bar, Dean arrives abruptly at Sam’s side and grabs his slut of a little brother’s arm harshly, pulling him away from the man he'd been chatting up.

“What the fuck man!” He calls out after Dean. Dean would be pretty pissed too if he had missed an opportunity with such a pretty thing like Sammy, who right now is trying to shake his way out of the death grip his brother has on his arm.

“C’mon Dean we were just talking.Josh seems like a nice guy.” Whining only got Sam places in bed, but he couldn't care less as he carries on like a spoiled child.

Dean burst through the front door and smirks when he catches a glimpse of ‘Josh’ following them out the door.  
They arrive at the car and Sam shoves Dean hard into the side of it. Crowding around him Dean presses a possessive kiss onto Sam’s warm mouth.  
Sam pulls away from Dean.

“I'm not ready to leave yet.” He tries to push Dean off of him but it doesn't work.

“Really Sammy? ‘Cuz I think you are.” Dean tries his hardest to manhandle Sam into the back but it's no use, Sam breaks away and starts walking back to the bar.

“Fine Sam! Go fuck Josh! See if I give a shit. Don't you dare come looking for me when you need your fill.”

Sam looks back at Dean one more time, the red neon glow of the bar’s sign casts a harsh glow on his features. He pulls the door open, slamming it against the brick exterior before walking back inside.

Dean gets in the car, knuckles white where he grips the wheel, and floors it out of the bar lot. He needs to blow off some steam but he promised Sam he wouldn't kill anyone. Fuck it. He starts driving in the direction of some whorehouse he hadn't been to since Sam left him for college. He's not gonna sleep with anyone, just have a little fun.

 

A few hours later covered in body glitter and fresh hooker blood, Dean walks into the motel room. He thought Sam was gonna be made because he had a fresh pair of creamed panties in his back pocket (it's not Dean’s fault the girl he picked got off on being brutally murdered), but nothing compares to what Sam’s doing. He's in complete shock, stuck in the doorway watching his little brother get fucked by that douche from the bar. Red floods his vision as he marches over to the asshole balls deep in Sam. Fucking Sam is moaning like he's getting paid while getting fucked by a dick half the size of Dean’s.

“What the fuck are you thinking?” He growls.

Not even bothering to pull the him off Sam, Dean goes straight for the kill.

The guy didn't even know what’s coming for him, all he could comprehend is calloused hands gripping his jaw and shoulder. The next thing he knows the world goes black as his neck snaps. Dean reaches into his back pocket to grab his knife. Holding the now dead man up by his hair, he drags the knife slowly from ear to ear, slitting the skin and causing blood to spurt out all over Sam’s freckled back.  
Sam stays on his hands and knees blood covered, in shock as Dean pulls his recent kill off of him and tosses him to the carpeted floor beside the bed, blood still spurting out of his slit neck seeping deep in the carpet. Dean’s gonna leave a big tip for the maid service. He pushes the thought from his mind to focus back on Sam. The only the muscle Sam dares to move is his asshole, which involuntarily clenches from the sudden loss of cock.

“Oh good, he left you open for me.” Dean laughs and climbs onto the now soaking wet bed.

“Roll over Sam.”

Sam takes his direction and rolls to his back, smearing blood all over the moth eaten comforter. His eyes shoot wide when he finally sees his brother, who he's never seen so angry in his life.  
Dean’s eyes are dark black as he snarls and grips baby brother’s hips so tight that they're already turning black and blue. Sam’s convinced he’s never gonna see his favorite shade of green again.  
Dean always gets hard when he kills, so he saves the preamble, unzips his jeans and slides into Sam’s open hole, not even bothering to slick up his own dick. Sam groans as Dean slides into him, a slight burn from the lack of lube on Dean’s part. He fucks him hard pushing Sam up the mattress, his head almost hitting the headboard with each thrust. Sam’s slick with dead man’s blood when Dean runs his hands over his brother.

“You're fucking mine.” He growls, biting into the soft flesh at the junction of Sam’s neck and shoulder.

He rakes his nails down his brother’s torso and sinisterly smiles when one of the scratches starts to bleed. Dean’s not entirely sure Sam understands. He abruptly pull out of Sam, and rolls him over. Sam whines, face buried into the mattress. His hips lift for Dean, who pushes Sam’s knees together and presses a hand to the back of his head. Muffled groans come from Sam when he feels Dean reenter his ruined hole.

His big brother gets an idea. Everyone is going to know who Sam belongs to.

He takes the bloody knife and teasingly drags it up and down Sam’s back..Sam feels the knife press into his lower back, his first thought is that he's losing a kidney, that he really fucked up. But hell, if Dean wanted a kidney Sam would cut it out himself for him. The knife drags lower, cool metal resting just above his ass.

Sam screams as Dean carves his initials into his little brother’s warm skin, but they're muffled in the blanket. His ass clenches hard around Dean.

“Now everyone who tries to touch will know you belong to someone. Know you belong to me.”

Dean grips the bloody blade in his hand, serrated edge out. With a skilled hand, he throws it so it stick into that dead dick’s back. ‘Should have made him suffer’, Dean thinks as a second thought, that immediately floats away when he catches sight of Sam, face first in the mattress, ass up and willing with Dean’s carved initials right above it.

“God, you've never looked hotter Sammy.” Dean groans, slowly thrusting in and out of Sam. He rubs his fingers through his carved initials and wipes the blood off between Sam’s shoulders.

“What the fuck were you thinking? Huh?” Dean leans down to lick the blood from his brother's back.

“Think you're gonna find better dick than this?” He bites hard so badly wanting to tear his flesh right from the bones. He wants to fuck Sam up so bad that he never wants to leave again.

“Mmph” Sam groans, head still burrows deep in the mattress, he can barely breathe but he knows he deserves all he's getting.

A few more thrusts and Dean’s coming hard deeper in Sam than ever before.  
He pulls out and rolls onto the only part of the mattress not covered in blood.  
Sam is still face face down in the mattress, hard, hole gaping, and too scared to move. Dean rolls him over. He runs a hand through the dried blood on Sam’s stomach, avoiding his achingly hard cock.

“Sammy you might be popping out some little devils after all the come I buried in your sweet little ass.” Dean’s tone is too light and playful for the punishment that Sam knows he deserves more of. He doesn't move, just carefully watches Dean’s movements.

Dean walks his fingers up Sam’s chest. A smile plays on his lips but it drops the second Dean reaches Sam’s neck. He grips tight, tears streak his little brother’s face.

“You try that shit again and I'll fucking kill you. I'll probably kill myself after because you know there's no way we're going anywhere without each other. I'll do it, Sam. Don't you fucking give me a reason too.” Dean’s eyes are black as night, Sam’s not even sure Dean’s aware.

He releases his grip around Sam’s neck, angry red finger marks blend in with the blood. Dean moves his hand around Sam’s cock and quickly finishes him off. Sam screams as come streaks his stomach and chest, red and white swirling together like peppermint. He curls up into Dean’s side and falls asleep.

A few hours later Sam wakes up with something warm and sweet filling his mouth. Dean’s feeding him. He leans on his elbow so he can lay on his side to get his mouth around Dean’s arm. The scent of Death hangs in the air in a dense suffocating fog. Both of them are so used to it they barely notice. Sam sucks and sucks at Dean until the wound closes. Dean curls his hand around Sam’s hip, fingers just brushing his carved initials on his lower back.

“I want yours.” Dean whispers, fingers dipping into the cut of the ‘W’. Sam nods eagerly.

“Okay how?”

Dean rolls out of bed, purposely stepping on Josh. Blood and other fluids ooze out of him at the pressure. Dean grimaces but gets back on task. He locates his duffle, thankfully untouched by the blood that cover majority of the room. The silver blade reflects in the dim light of the room.

“Uh Dean?” Sam’s not sure what Dean’s up to but that knife has the power to kill him.

“Listen Sammy, if you drink enough from me then do it, it'll scar and I'll have it forever.” Sam nods and crawls to the edge of the bed.

Dean sits down next to him and grabs his hunting knife off the end table. A pained hiss escapes his lips as he cuts along his neck so Sam can drink. Sam climbs into his big brother’s lap and starts mouthing at the gaping wound. Dean cut through his artery so Sam doesn't even have to suck, the blood just spurts into his mouths. He swallows it down greedily until the stream starts to die. Sam sucks at Dean’s neck, his brother’s hand in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. Dean musters up the energy to tugs Sam off just as the wound heals. Dean's eyes are half closed when he lazily hands Sam the demon blade. He plops back onto the mattress, almost knocking Sam off of him. Sam leans over Dean’s pliable body and whispers a soft ‘thank you’, brushing his lips against Dean's.

“Where do you want it?” Sam says, a voice so soft Dean can barely hear him.

He grabs Sam’s wrist softly, guiding the knife right over his heart. Sam cut into Dean’s skin, right over his anti-possession tattoo. The ink splits as a bloody ‘S’ then ‘W’ take it's place. Admiring his work, Sam drags his fingers through his brother’s sweet blood. He sucks them into his mouth, eyes rolling back at the taste.

“That's my boy.” Dean says, pulling Sam to lay down on his chest, opposite of his newest adornment. Their legs are falling off the bed but they're both too drugged on each other to care. Dean’s in a rare cuddling mood and Sam’s going to use it to his advantage.

 

Dean doesn't bother to check them out the next morning, he doesn't need anyone else to see their faces before they go. The sun is just kissing the horizon when he steps outside the door. The fresh air outside is a relief from the stench of sex and death that presides in the room. He leaves the windows down as Sammy climbs into the passenger seat.

“So… I’m thinking we stop in Kansas for a bit, let everything here die down. We head East after.”

“Sounds good.”

Sam can feel the eyes of his creatures still on him but they aren't following them. They're satisfied. Sam sticks one of his feet out the window. Leaning into his brother’s side, he feels a sense of relief. His lower back still burns where the cut of Dean’s initials will forever be. He feels good, claimed. Sam belongs to no one but Dean. He unbuttons his brother’s flannel a few buttons to get a glimpse of his own initials. Dean doesn't belong to anyone but Sam.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think!! I hope to have the next part out by the end of the month.


End file.
